Miserable, she sat down on the edge of Eva’s guest bed and picked up the wooden box Rose had given her. Seeking comfort, she opened the lid to read Rose’s last letter. The box was empty. Harlee stared harder as if the letter would magically appear. She’d put it in the box over a month ago and hadn’t touched it since. If she hadn’t removed it, who had?
Then it struck her.
The person who’d broken into her house. That was what they’d taken. But why? What was the point?
There were only two people who could have gained something from that knowledge, Jill and Warren. They’d searched her home in hopes of finding something, and they’d struck gold. The trust fund mentioned in the letter would be damning, enough to convince the Reynolds that she had ulterior motives when it came to a relationship with Jake—personal and professional. Right now, Jake was in Seattle with his father. The letter would be one more nail in her coffin.
Restless, she grabbed Igor and left the house. The weather reminded her of another night not so long ago, yet it seemed like a lifetime. It wasn’t exactly a prime night for a drive around the island.
She turned onto the windy county road. A half-hour later, she found herself at Rosehill. As if drawn by a magnet, she drove past the farmhouse. It was dark, a testament to the fact that Jake had stayed the night in Seattle, according to Brad.
Harlee turned into the adjacent driveway which led to the camp.
She parked near the old lodge. The rain turned to drizzle, and she pulled her hood over her head. Igor, the scruffy prima donna, wanted no part of a walk in the rain. No amount of coaxing convinced him to leave the warm, dry cab. Harlee picked him up and bodily threw him out. He snarled at her and shook his little body.
“Let’s go.” She motioned to him.
Igor tucked his tail between his legs and stalked after her with a stiff-legged gait.
By the time she’d walked to the bank overlooking the water, the rain was coming down in steady sheets. Right now, she didn’t care if it washed her away into the black water below.
She’d won.
Their grassroots campaign had pressured Jake until he’d changed his mind, yet she felt like crap. By winning, she’d become the biggest loser of all. Jake had saved the camp, and she’d lost him forever. If she’d trusted him to make the right choice, she might have had everything. Yes, a little voice nagged, but you cheated. You didn’t play fair with your schemes and sabotage.
The rain ran off her hood and dripped from her nose. It turned her coat into a wetsuit. Igor shivered and whimpered. “What a baby. Okay, fine. We’ll go back.”
The small outdoor lamp on the lodge pierced the rain and darkness. Harlee stopped cold and stared at her vehicle. The front tire was flat. With a sigh, she opened the passenger door. What else could go wrong? Igor slipped between her legs and crawled onto the seat, curling into a little ball.
“Sissy. A little rain won’t hurt that coat of yours.” She sniffed and gagged. “It’ll just make you stink all the more.” Igor lifted one corner of his mouth to show his teeth and turned his back on her.
Harlee dug behind the seat for a jack. No jack. Damn. Now what?
“Hey, is something wrong?”
Harlee stifled a scream and whipped around. Warren stood a few feet away. The rain must have masked his footsteps. He stared at her, an odd expression on his face. The hair on the back of her neck stood at attention and a shiver slid down her spine.
“I have a flat tire.”
“I’ll take care of it for you.”
“Thanks.” Her stomach seemed queasy. Maybe too many nachos at the bar.
“This could take a few minutes. Wait in the lodge. It’s drier in there.”
“I’m fine right here. Where did you come from?”
He ignored her. “I have a key to the back door, and it’s lousy weather. You’re soaked, and there are blankets inside.”
“I’ll wait in the car.”
“No, you won’t.” At her startled expression, he softened his voice to a low, persuasive tone. “Not while it’s up on a jack. Besides, you’re shaking. Come on.”
Harlee’s legs tagged along after Warren, but her brain didn’t. It stayed where it was and insisted something wasn’t right. Igor left the comfort of the cab and stuck to her heels like glue, a low growl vibrating in his throat.
Warren unlocked the door, and they entered the dark interior. Hesitant, Harlee followed him inside.
“Can we turn on a light?”
“No.” His voice sounded strange, foreign, as if it wasn’t his. “Warren? Where are you?” Warren didn’t answer. Nothing. Not a word. She couldn’t see him in the dark. Panic tightened her throat. Not the time to turn into a girlie-girl. Harlee mustered her courage and battened down her fears before they broke loose and wreaked untold havoc.
She heard the door click shut and a deadbolt slid into place.
She needed to get out of this building, but Warren had to be standing near the door. There were other doors, but she’d never locate them in this suffocating blackness.
Her heart beat louder than hooves pounding on turf. “Warren, I’m leaving.”
Silence except for the patter of rain on the roof. Harlee started across the room. Somewhere on the opposite wall would be another door.
“You’re not leaving, Harlee.”
Harlee bit back the fear that threatened her ability to think rationally. With the windows boarded up in the lodge for the winter it was black as night. Igor yelped as she stepped on his foot. Warren laughed. He was very close. She could smell that overpowering cologne he liked to wear.
Cold steel pressed against her neck. She stopped in her tracks. Her breathing was labored.
“Don’t move. I’d hate to sever that pretty head from your body. It’s a sharp knife. Very dangerous. Not a toy.”
Oh, God. She froze. Afraid to speak for fear that he’d slice her throat. She tried to swallow, but her tongue felt thick and heavy.
“I said don’t move.” He grabbed a handful of hair and cruelly wrenched back her head, exposing her neck all the more. She yelped in pain. He pressed the knife harder. Something warm trickled down her neck. He’d drawn blood.
“I won’t,” she croaked.
He released her hair and the pressure from the knife ceased. She heard him grope about for something then strike a match. Seconds later, he lit an oil lamp. The walls danced in sinister shades of gold and orange in the dim light. Warren settled into a chair and smiled at her; the light played off the knife’s gleaming blade.
“I’m supposed to meet Jake here at any moment so you’d better explain yourself.” Harlee bluffed.
“Good try, Harlee. Jake’s not coming back until tomorrow. By then, there won’t be anything left to find.”
Harlee’s heart thundered against her rib cage. The man meant to kill her. She’d been a bimbo to come out here alone at night. She deserved every strand of that blonde hair. She was on her own, and Warren knew it. She had to distract him and get the hell out of there. To where? There wasn’t an occupied house within a mile or so.
“What do you want, Warren?” Her voice wavered. Warren smiled, feasting on her fear like a pack of dogs feasted on a dead carcass. His eyes took a leisurely tour of her body, pausing way too long on her breasts. She shuddered.
“Do you like me looking at you, Harlee? Does it turn you on?”
Harlee shook her head.
“Strip for me, Harlee. I’d like to see in the flesh what Jake saw.”
“No.” She sounded small and weak.
“No? It’ll be worse if you make me do it for you.” Warren’s eyes gleamed with a maniacal light.
He truly was mad. Keep talking. Distract him. Try something. Anything. He meant business. Stall until help arrives. Right, that’d be tomorrow afternoon. She was good in bed but not that good.
He jabbed the knife toward her and nicked her arm. She stifled a sob. Warren heard it and laughed with cruel satisfaction.
She st
ood her ground. She’d die first rather than let that jerk touch her.
“You’re taking too long.” Warren stood and stalked toward her. Harlee backed up. Igor, sensing a threat, leapt at Warren and fastened himself to the jerk’s ankle, snarling and biting with sharp little teeth. Harlee bolted for the door, but fear iced her veins, making her movements sluggish. It was one of those running-in-quicksand nightmares that became reality.
With the rat dog attached to his leg, Warren lurched after her. He caught her by her hair as she opened the door. Yanking hard, he threw her to the floor. She cried in pain and hit the hardwood with a thud. Warren grabbed Igor and flung him against the wall. Harlee heard a sickening crack. She lifted her head toward Igor. He yelped and howled and whined.
“Go, Igor. Go!” She yelled and Igor tore out the open door on his three legs into the night.
“You bitch.” Warren slammed the door and bolted it. “No matter. There’s no one around to hear you or find that dog.” He reached for her hair again and yanked her to her feet. Tears filled her eyes and ran down her cheeks. Warren pushed her against a table.
Harlee screamed and fought like a wildcat. She scratched, poked, and kneed anything in range. Warren brought his hand upward and hit her so hard she staggered drunkenly backward. Only his tight grip on her arm prevented her from falling. Something warm trickled down her face. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.
“Why are you doing this?”
“You ruined me. I have nothing thanks to you.”
“Warren, you’re not ruined.”
“I am. You caused it. You have to pay. It’s only fair.”
“I didn’t cause anything. You blew the money Joe Reynolds paid you for Rosehill. You broke into my house. You emptied Ferguson’s water and gave him moldy hay.”
“You’re not a dumb as I gave you credit for. Now, let’s see how good of a fighter you are.”
* * * *
Jake was desperate to talk to Harlee before she left in the morning. If she got on that ferry, there’d be no turning back. He was sure of it. She’d keep her commitment to Rico and Mariah because that’s the kind of person she was.
He’d done a lot of thinking about his future in the past few hours. That future contained Harlee. Their lives were intertwined, and he’d be damned if he’d mess this one up. She belonged with him, and he belonged with her.
In his hand, he clutched Rose’s letter, the one Warren had given to his father. It wasn’t Rose’s promise of a trust fund that gave him this sick feeling in his stomach. He knew in his heart that Harlee didn’t care about the money. What nagged at him was how Warren came to possess this letter. He could only think of one reason. Warren was the one who’d broken into her house. That scared the shit out of him.
When he couldn’t locate Warren in Seattle, he’d woken up his Dad’s pilot and begged to be flown to the islands. All the way there, he felt this sense of dread. He needed to see Harlee, touch her, tell her that he believed in her. He needed to make sure she was all right.
Growing more frantic by the minute, he stopped by the bar, but it was closed down for the night. No one was home at Eva’s. The place was dark, and no vehicles were parked outside. He drove like a man possessed to the farm. Not a light was on in the old farmhouse, but Warren’s truck was parked outside.
Jake opened the door to the incessant ringing of the telephone. He dived for it, praying it might be Harlee. It was Bridget. Damn.
“Jake, why are you answering this phone?”
“I live here. Why are you dialing this number?” Jake walked through the rooms looking for some sign of Warren. Nothing.
“I need to talk to Harlee.”
“She’s not here. I was hoping you’d know where she was.”
“I don’t. She was in the bar earlier then left to pack. I need to find her. I owe her another apology.”
“Another one?”
“Yes, another one.” Bridget sounded exasperated. “Then I’m going to hunt down that weasel, Warren, and geld him.”
“Get in line. What’d he do to you this time?” Jake stared out the window, hoping for some sign of Warren.
“I talked to the vet earlier. Warren called her a couple weeks ago and asked all sorts of questions about colic in horses. She thought it was odd.”
“Shit. You think Warren…” A seed of dread lodged in his throat.
“Wouldn’t you think that?”
“Uh, yeah.” And Warren’s truck was outside his door. Warren and Harlee were nowhere to be found and…That seed of dread grew into an old growth fir. Roots of fear spread deep into his body.
Jake dropped the phone, grabbed his keys and a flashlight, and ran out the door.
He had no idea where to begin looking, but Warren was on foot, which meant he was in the area. Jake’s instincts led him down the path through the woods toward the camp. His flashlight caught a small animal, hobbling along the trail. Jake did a double-take.
“Igor!” The little dog limped to him. Jake picked him up, and the rat dog whimpered. “Shit, you’re a mess.”
Igor squirmed out of Jake’s arms and ran ahead, stopping to bark at him. A premonition of danger spurred Jake into action. He sprinted after Igor, who was burning up the trail on three legs.
Great, Harlee’s safety depended on a three-legged, pint-sized rat dog impersonating Lassie.
* * * *
Harlee swallowed the lump of terror clogging her throat. “What are you planning to do to me?” Warren had shoved her down onto the table and pointed his knife at her heart.
“I’m going to enjoy the same pleasures Jake’s enjoyed for the past month. I suggest you enjoy them, too. They’ll be your last.”
Harlee looked him squarely in the eye. “You don’t really want to do this, Warren. Let me go. You need help.”
“I know what you’re trying to do. It won’t work.” He brandished the knife and watched the light play across the shiny blade. “I could gut you right here and watch you bleed to death.”
Not a good option.
Harlee shifted uncomfortably as he leaned closer. She bit the inside of her mouth. The taste of blood grounded her and focused her concentration on the pain instead of her fright.
“You’re all alike. You know that, don’t you? Women pretend that they don’t want it, but we all know they do. Every one of them.”
Harlee forced oxygen into her lungs.
Think. Think. Think.
She could go through with it then knee him in the groin when he was at his most vulnerable. She didn’t have too many options, but that one made her wretch.
“Warren, why are you doing this?” Keep talking. Stall for time.
“Because you’re a woman.”
As if that explained everything. Well, right now, men weren’t at the top of her list either. Semi-hysterical laughter bubbled inside her. Not a good idea. In fact, a potentially deadly one. She muzzled her misplaced humor and switched to more persuasive tactics.
“Let me help you, Warren.”
“You can’t help me. You’re a woman. You’re the reason I’m in this mess.” Not true, but her current position didn’t allow for any arguments.
“Take it off,” he growled.
Harlee shook her head. “Screw you.” Not a wise move, girlfriend. And a bad time for her smart mouth to assert its stupidity. What happened to cooperating and waiting for him to let down his guard? She knew what happened. She would rather be dead that be forced to do it with a psycho like him. Judging by the fury tattooed on his face, her fate was a done deal.
Warren lifted the knife. He drew a fine line across her collarbone, just enough to make her bleed. Harlee recoiled from the razor-sharp knife. A pathetic whimper tumbled from her mouth. Her foolish bravery snuck away to quake in a dark corner.
“You like that? I figure a hot little number like you prefers a little pain with her pleasure. We’ll see if you’re woman enough to please me when your life rides on it, or should I say rides on me.”
He snickered, enjoying himself way too much.
Warren slid the knife under her collar. She squeezed her eyes shut. But she couldn’t close her ears to the sound of fabric giving way under the sharp blade or to the cold steel pressed between her breasts. Her chest forgot how to inhale and exhale. She lost the ability to move her body. Nothing worked except her nose. She smelled the pungent scent of sweat born from the excitement of a wild animal closing in on its prey.
A loud crash startled them both. Warren momentarily released his grip and dropped the knife. Wood splintered. Chaos reigned. The world spun and the table shuddered underneath her. She kneed Warren in the groin. Above the din, he roared in pain and rage and lunged at her. Harlee rolled off the table and landed on the floor with a thud. In desperation, she crawled and clawed to get away.
No time to think. Just do. Now. Get free. Go. Go. Go.
Warren’s hand wrapped around her leg and wrenched her back toward him. Her choices were fight or flight. Survive somehow. The knife was out of reach.
She kicked him in the jaw and was rewarded by a resounding crack. He shouted in outrage, and the knife slashed her calf. Agony rocked her abused body in stilted shudders. She refused to succumb to the pain and thrashed on the floor, desperate to free herself. Warren crushed her with his bulk and pinned her. The breath was forced from her already starving lungs. Harlee tasted dread and smelled terror, that same sickly sweet smell that surrounds doomed animals and road kill. Her tongue thickened in her mouth until her screams died to a pitiful gurgle.
She braced herself for his attack. Instead, Warren’s weight no longer pressed against her back. One second it was there, then it was gone.
Noise everywhere. Loud noises. Glass shattered. Men grunted and swore. Fists connected with flesh, and bones broke. Something glinted across the floor in front of her face. The knife. She spotted the metallic glint of the blade and grabbed for it. Behind her, the racket reverberated against the walls of the lodge. She curled her hand around the knife.
Who's Been Sleeping in My Bed? Page 29
